Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Neil came to me and took my hands, holding them slightly out to my sides. “You look better than any birthday cake I’ve ever eaten.”
I snorted. “Very good innuendo, Elwood. But I know you love cake.”
“On the contrary.” He brought our hands up between us as he stepped close and leaned down to my ear. “I enjoy eating you more.”
He slipped his arm around my waist and led me toward Rudy. Every time I saw that man, it was like I was the defendant in a very smug lawsuit. The weird thing was, I liked Rudy. He was one of the most talented costume designers in New York, and he’d hung up the tape measure to work at Porteras. Which meant he loved fashion as much as I did. Plus, he was Neil’s best friend. I couldn’t not like him.
“You look barely legal tonight,” Rudy said by way of greeting.
I pursed my lips, nodded then said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
My mom returned from the dining room, cosmo in hand. At the sight of her, Rudy pushed his glasses down his nose. “Oh, that’s sad. I hate to see a bridge and tunnel MILF get lost on her way back to Ronkonkoma.”
“That’s my mother-in-law-to-be,” Neil reminded him quietly as she made her way toward us. “She’s from the Midwest. Be nice to her.”
“Be nice to her? I’ll send her a Neiman’s gift card if she promises to never wear zebra print again.” His composed smirk was both self-congratulatory and a reminder that this was all good-natured banter. And it was. It was just good-natured banter that he actually thought. “She’s like if Kirstie Alley had played Patsy on Ab Fab.”
Neil elbowed him.
Mom looked concerned when she reached me. “Sophie, do you think they know to clean as they go in there? I could go behind and tidy up.”
“No, Mom. The caterers will take care of it. That’s their job.” I had to refrain from rolling my eyes, because I was almost certain Rudy wasn’t. “Let me introduce you to someone. This is Rudy, Neil’s best friend.”
“Oh?” She held out her hand and looked utterly charmed when Rudy kissed it. She didn’t know it was sarcastic, but she didn’t need to.
“Rudy and I met at university,” Neil said then corrected himself. “College.”
“I know what university is,” she told him then turned back to Rudy. “So, Rudy. Are you single?”
Oh, I was so not going to hang around for that particular conversation. I drifted away, pretending I didn’t see the pleading in Neil’s panicked gaze.
I’d invited about fifty of Neil’s friends, and as I’d expected, about thirty had been able to make it. It was just the right sized crowd. If there was someone you didn’t want to see—Valerie, for example—there were enough guests that it was easy to accidentally miss them.
It wasn’t that I’d gone back to hating her guts. It was just that after our heart-to-heart in London, I didn’t know how to be around her. Even though I was so grateful for the way she’d helped me during Neil’s momentary pharmaceutical breakdown, I felt unreasonably betrayed by her. It wasn’t her fault that her brother was writing a book, and I could tell that she felt really bad about it. Unfortunately, our history together made it hard to not resent her for her brother’s actions.
When she cornered me by the bar, I forced my friendliest smile. “Hey, Valerie.”
“Sophie.” She was forcing her niceness just as hard I was forcing mine. “You look very pretty tonight. Herve Leger?”
“Um, yeah.” I nodded and grinned like an idiot. I didn’t care so much about her approval, but she appreciated fashion. I couldn’t hate that. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
She plucked at the front of her asymmetrical silver sweater—I was pretty sure it was Armani—and said, “Well, that’s kind of you, but I’ve been at the office all day. Never a dull moment.”
Something mean tightened up inside of me. I didn’t know that I would ever be over losing my job at Porteras. It had been totally my fault, but I still felt a prick of anger every time I remembered that Valerie now ran the place I’d loved so much.
“I’m not staying,” Valerie went on. I noticed she had her purse over her arm, so she must have been serious. She rummaged in her bag with one hand. “I have something…”
“You drove all the way out here to say happy birthday to Neil and drive back?” If I had fur, it would stand up. Oh, Neil, I drove four hours round trip to wish you happy birthday, because you’re so special to me. But then, I noticed what she was pulling from her purse, and my heart sank.
“I wanted to give you this. It’s an advanced copy.” She looked furtively over her shoulder then held out a book emblazoned with ADVANCED UNCORRECTED PROOF NOT FOR RESALE across the cover. Above a photo of a man with Valerie’s sparkling hazel eyes and perfect cheekbones was the title Don’t I Know You?, and below, Steven Stern.